


runaways

by call_me_steve



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BASED ON THE CHARACTERS NOT THE REAL PEOPLE, Canon Rewrite, Child Soldiers, Friendship, Good Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Horseback Riding, Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, President Wilbur Soot, The election, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit Angst, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, ao3 ur tags make me so fucking mad, just as the elections take place, no beta we die like wilbur soot, set just after l'manburg gains its independence, world building sorta, yes i am rewriting the dsmp basically what of it, yes we will be looking into that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-27 18:35:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30127101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/call_me_steve/pseuds/call_me_steve
Summary: “You’re asking us to take a several-day trip over to the next kingdom over.”“We’re guaranteed to win,” Wilbur says, smoothly. “This is more important than hearing what you already know.”Tubbo doesn’t look so convinced. “Shame we’ll miss it, though.”“Yes,” says Wilbur, sounding distant once more. “A shame.”
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AIGHT LETS GO Y'ALL IM EXCITED FOR THIS ONE
> 
> also! i'm hoping to update once every other week :)) my tumblr's over at @unfinished-sympathies

Tommy slips through the corridors of the building, Tubbo hot on his heels. Their destination remains unchanged, even when they run into Fundy and Niki. The duo are slowly moving their things over to the new bakery across the block and the hall is littered with the evidence, in the shape of boxes and furniture. 

Unamused by the boys’ shouting, Fundy gives them a cold stare- the new normal involving him and those in the old L’Manburg Core Battalion. Niki, however, smiles and wishes them good luck tonight. 

Tonight: the moment they’ve been waiting for for months. Tonight: when Wilbur will stand tall before the crowd and tell them all the fate of their precious L’Manburg.  _ Tonight: _ the  _ election. _

“You too!” says Tubbo, just before Tommy can grab at his sleeve and yank him along. Fundy and Niki fade into the background; the boys’ destination rests clearly ahead, no one but the extra staff standing in their way. 

Tommy wastes no time in chastising Tubbo when they start moving again. “Now  _ isn’t _ the time to be mingling with the enemy.” 

“Yeah, but Wilbur said-” 

They take a sharp right, ducking past a man sneaking a glimpse of his reflection in one of the windows. “As the soon-to-be vice president, whatever Wilbur says is bullshit.” 

“I don’t think that’s how it works, Tommy.”

Once there’s some distance between them and the man, Tommy finally draws to a stop. He fixes his collar, straightens out his coattails, and fluffs up his hair. Tubbo doesn’t do much more than fix his boots, tapping the toes against the floor in order to have them fit more snug. Both feeling presentable, Tommy reaches forward and turns the doorknob. 

Wilbur’s office lies right behind it, the inside of which Tommy knows like the back of his hand. A flag hangs on the wall beside a copy of the Declaration and its predecessor; the original versions rest in Wilbur’s enter chest, awaiting their win in tonight’s election. When that happens and they  _ lawfully _ become the leaders of their dear nation, Wilbur has decided to put in motion an effort to establish a library- archives, really, in order to protect important documents and pieces of history. 

Also inside of the office rests a bookshelf, in which are books that  _ probably _ won’t end up in that library. If Tommy closes his eyes, he can still see Tubbo scanning it’s shelves when the days get long. He’ll slip one out and spend the rest of the night learning something new- whether it be science, politics, or something else silly and sweet. That’s where Tubbo and Wilbur meet: their thirst for knowledge is never quite satisfied.

Beside the bookshelf sits the desk that Tommy has commandeered time and time again. He writes to Phil monthly, using Wilbur’s finest parchment, and always has to remind Wilbur to do the same. They may be about to win over a nation of thousands- nearly a couple million, now, if Tommy thinks about it- but that doesn’t mean they’ll stop having time for the few people who matter most. Tommy even sends monthly letters off to Technoblade for the same reason- though  _ those _ get replied to far less frequently.

Unless Tommy arrives at the right time, he can always find Wilbur hunched over that desk, hand flying as he powers through senseless stacks of paperwork. Tubbo always helps him with it when asked- so had Niki, before COCONUT2020. 

Everything is exactly the same now- the bookshelf, the desk, the L’Manburg flag- only, Wilbur isn’t at his desk. He’s standing at the window, peering out at the bustling streets below, his hands folded behind his back.

“Heya, Big Man,” Tommy greets. “It’s nearly go-time.” 

Tubbo fades off to the side of the room as Tommy closes the door. While he doesn’t yet greet Wilbur, he  _ does _ shoot Tommy a conflicted look. 

Something’s going on. Normally Wilbur would never let an idle moment pass or go to waste like this. 

Wilbur doesn’t reply to Tommy; he just keeps staring, even as Tommy rounds the desk to get a better look at his brother’s face. Something he can’t quite name rests there- apprehension, perhaps, mixed with longing. A sort of melancholy acceptance of knowing something you can’t dare tell anyone else.

It leaves a sour taste in Tommy’s mouth- like a sort of foreboding brought along by storm clouds on the morning of a picnic. “What are you doing?” 

His question seemingly brings Wilbur to life- he blinks, a truly slow affair. It’s like he’s waking up from a lovely daydream or daze as he pulls his gaze- almost reluctantly- from the mid-morning hustle. Outside, ladies are donning their prettiest petticoats and men their finest breeches, all preparing for the large meeting tonight. Inside, Tommy and Tubbo watch as the soon-to-be president puts on a brave face.

Brave face- that’s the only word Tommy can think of that can possibly describe the mask that overtakes that solemn resignation. For a moment, he thinks that this spells their doom: POG2020 has lost to their competitors. But, then he remembers that Wilbur had promised he wouldn’t even  _ look _ at the results until he did so aloud for their entire world. 

Tommy trusts his brother. Believes he wouldn’t read the outcome until he said he would. Wilbur hasn’t, after all, given him a reason to ever think otherwise. 

He still can’t help the worry from rising up his throat. “Wilby?” 

Immediately, Tommy recoils at his own slip-up. Tubbo stiffles his laugh and a fond smile stretches across his brother’s face, replacing that mask and that worry. 

“Tommy. Tubbo. It’s good to see the two of you.” 

Now that is back is turned to the window, Wilbur withdraws his round glasses from his pocket and slips them onto his face. He pulls back his chair and lowers himself into it gingerly, as though his body is sore. Then, he picks up his discarded quill, prepared to sink back into his work. Tommy watches each movement carefully, suddenly tense. 

“Good morning, Wilbur,” Tubbo finally says, chipper as always. He has a book tucked beneath his arm and now hands it forward. Wilbur takes it and sets it on the desk, rather than standing up and putting it away.

Part of Tommy flares in anger- jealousy- at not knowing what it is. 

“I’m glad you’re here, actually,” Wilbur replies, seemingly out of nowhere. He scoots back and yanks open a drawer in his desk, withdrawing a bundle of papers, wrapped together with red ribbon. The feather-pen twirls between his fingertips, catching Tommy’s attention. His brother’s voice sounds disjointed and far away and one look at Tubbo reveals that  _ he’s _ noticed it too. “I have an errand for the two of you.” 

Tommy can’t help it. He groans as Tommy accepts the bundle. “You can’t be  _ serious.  _ Don’t we  _ have _ people for that, now?” 

Wilbur’s easy smile ebbs back into a frown. “Tommy-” 

Even Tubbo begins to frown as he pulls the ribbon free and begins to flip through the papers. Though he pauses at parts and squints at the others, he doesn’t seem very pleased with what he understands. 

“This is  _ more _ than an errand,” he says. 

“What?” Tommy snatches the bundle. “Let me see.” 

“I think you’re supposed to ask and  _ then _ take it,” Tubbo mutters to himself. Tommy reaches out and pushes at his shoulder enough that Tubbo lets out a laugh. 

When they both settle, Tubbo turns to Wilbur and says, “You’re asking us to take a several-day trip over to the next kingdom over.” 

Once more, though in the middle of skimming the first page, Tommy shouts,  _ “What?!”, _ only louder this time. “But- the  _ election _ is tonight. If we go do this, we’ll miss the results!” 

“We’re guaranteed to win,” Wilbur says, smoothly. “This is more important than hearing what you already know. If it bothers you so much, I can send ahead a letter with the results for you to see when you arrive- word needs to spread anyhow.” 

While, certainly, Wilbur makes a good point, Tommy thinks about storm clouds and a small, melancholy smile. He narrows his eyes. 

“There’s something you’re not telling us. Why can’t we leave tomorrow?” 

Wilbur presses his lips together. “Technoblade hasn’t replied to your letters in a while.” 

Tommy and Tubbo share a third look- an entire conversation passes between them without need for words. Tommy pulls in a breath as he hands Tubbo the papers, decision finalized. 

“Yeah?” he asks, cautiously.

“There’s someone in the kingdom nearby that knows where he is.” Wilbur’s voice drops getting a little quieter as though he’s sharing a secret. “We’re going to need him, Tommy.” 

Tubbo absentmindedly rolls up the papers, going to shove them into his pockets before he aborts the movement. Unlike Wilbur and Tommy, Tubbo’s missing his coat. It makes his blue pants, tucked into shiney, new boots, look that much brighter. Once he finds a place to put the papers- in the satchel, strapped across his chest- he asks, “Why?”

Tommy tries to answer the question for himself. That look, the foreboding, the uncharacteristic worry for Techno. 

“You don’t think he’s in trouble, do you?” His voice comes out smaller than he’d intended; he coughs, puffs out his chest, and continues. “I can see why you’d choose  _ us _ to go get him.” 

Wilbur’s smile returns, familiar and simple. His eyes swirl and make the expression complete; gracefulness that has come from practice, mixed with simple love and decades of patience. “Techno knows the both of you.” 

“That he does,” Tommy replies. 

Tubbo doesn’t look so convinced. “Shame we’ll miss the election.”

Tommy makes the mistake of looking away from Tubbo’s skeptical expression, back to Wilbur. This time, his brother’s shoulders seem to sag from relief. His smile shifts, showing a tiny flash of pearly whites- enough that the sun catches them and makes his eyes seem a little more haunted. 

“Yes,” says Wilbur, sounding distant once more. “A shame.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two of them race towards the next landmark, laughing and whooping as the wind tangles her fingers up in their hair. Tubbo beams a little brighter and feels his worries ebb away the longer they chase the sun. He only focuses on beating Tommy to the next tree line and nothing more. 
> 
> He leans down, pressing himself closer to the beast beneath him and bracing his forearms against it's back, hands tangled up in the reins. Even once day bleeds into night; even once they've put miles between them and home- Tubbo's heart pounds in his chest. 
> 
> This is being alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao has it been two weeks yet?

That meeting with Wilbur had taken place at midday; their departure happens right at noon, only a few hours before the election is set to take place. 

Wilbur hands them each a letter before they go, the fine envelope closed with wax. He advises them not to open it until they reach their destination. Then, he gives them each a pre-packed bag of supplies, complete with the same bedrolls they'd used on their days out on the front. 

"Stay safe," he warns them, as Tubbo fiddles with his horse's reins.

Tommy has his own horse- and, like Wilbur- his own far away look in his eyes. He accepts the pack and his expression grows bewildered when Wilbur pulls him in for a hug. 

"The hell's gotten into you?" he asks, as Tubbo accepts his own bag. Unlike Tommy, who'd looked vaguely off-put by the hug, Tubbo leans into it. This is, after all, the last one he'll ever get from Wilbur- at least, for a very long time. "You're acting weird."

Wilbur shrugs. "This will be the longest time we've ever been apart since the war started." 

_ That, _ Tubbo thinks,  _ and the fact that this feels like a final goodbye. _

Now, Tubbo may be young. Inexperienced in a few things. But- he's hardly naive and ignorant. He's most  _ definitely _ not stupid, either. He knows just what Wilbur's resigned gaze means- and he knows that Tommy does too, though he won't admit it. If Tubbo's being honest, that's fine. 

He doesn't want it to be true, either. 

Even he knows, though, that if Wilbur doesn't want them there to see it, they're not going to be there to see it all go down. At least he's sending them away so they can bear the heartbreak in safety.

Will they be able to come back? Tubbo hoists himself up onto the saddle and waits for Tommy to do the same. He hopes they'll be able to come back- to their houses and the Prime path, to their friends and the bench. This is L'Manburg-  _ home. _ The one they cried and nearly died for, time and time again. This is  _ home, _ the one Tommy gave up everything for, just to see her stand for one more day. 

What cruel irony, to lose her anyway.

They wave goodbye to Wilbur as the horses begin to trot along the streets. They soon lose him in the midst of the crowd; Tubbo tries to commit that last picture of him to memory, hoping it'll last until he sees him again. 

Him, glasses resting on his nose, hiding the bags beneath his dull brown eyes. Him, standing on the steps and looking thinner than before underneath that blue coat that never quite fit just right. It hits Tubbo in a flash that, with both him and Tommy leaving, Wilbur was on his own. 

His son and close friend were going against him in the election. Eret was no longer an ally of theirs. Quackity, who'd been close with them once upon a time, had started up SWAG2020 in order to exact some sort of revenge on them, for being turned away from L'Manburg's ranks.

All Wilbur had were the nation of people he'd fought for- and even they weren't guaranteed to be loyal. As soon as Tubbo and Tommy cross the border from L'Manburg into free country, Wilbur would be left behind in a nation without a single confidant. 

"I don't like this," says Tommy, gripping his horse's reins in a white-knuckled grip. "We're retreating. Like  _ cowards." _

"I know," Tubbo replies, keeping his back straight. Normally, the repetitive sway of the horse beneath him would be enough to calm his nerves. Now, it only serves to keep him hyper-aware of the increasing amount of space between them and Wilbur.   
  
"We should turn around." 

Tubbo shakes his head. A little boy runs in front of his horse and he yanks at the reins, swerving to the side and ending up closer to Tommy once he straightens back out. The horse whinnies in complaint.

"We can't," he tells Tommy. "Wilbur knows what he's doing. We just have to trust him." 

"Fine then." Tommy's gaze grows stone-hard as he commands Tubbo's attention. "We'll go find Technoblade and then,  _ no matter what, _ we come back to win L'Manburg back." 

Just as they hit L'Manburg's ever expanding, black walls, Tubbo levels Tommy with a determined grin. "Of course we will. She's  _ ours." _

Satisfaction blooms in his chest at the fact he can still make Tommy smile, even when all hope seems lost. It stays on his face as they pass the guards- not stopping to make small talk like a few of them want; Tubbo recognizes those few as members of the 32nd battalion, the one he'd spent a few weeks in- and urge their horses forth into a gallop, leaving L'Manburg and everything they love behind in the dust. 

At least riding turns out to be familiar. The two of them race towards the next landmark, laughing and whooping as the wind tangles her fingers up in their hair. Tubbo beams a little brighter and feels his worries ebb away the longer they chase the sun. He only focuses on beating Tommy to the next tree line and nothing more. 

He leans down, pressing himself closer to the beast beneath him and bracing his forearms against it's back, hands tangled up in the reins. Even once day bleeds into night; even once they've put miles between them and home- Tubbo's heart pounds in his chest. 

_ This _ is being alive.

It brings back memories of those early days- before L'Manburg, when he and Tommy would race across the horizon just like this. Not a single care in the world had plagued them; not even Wilbur watching over them with a crooked grin, clutching at unsent letters; not even Dream and the discs. 

Of course, it ends- faster than Tubbo would have liked. The horses tire and the mobs start appearing, so Tommy points out the first village he sees and they buy themselves an empty room to spend the night in. 

The room ends up an upstairs one, so they leave the horses tied up outside and water them. Then, they climb the stairs and start preparing for bed. Tubbo sets out a single candle at the head of their bedrolls- which they press together, just as they'd done during the winter months where battle never ceased and the tail end of the war.

Tommy's still coming down from the high as he settles in, chest rising and falling erratically. "Two more days of that and we'll be golden!" 

"Call it three and you'd be right." Tubbo rolls over onto his side, facing Tommy, who's resting on his back. His arms rest beneath his head, acting as a pillow. Without thinking, Tubbo reaches out and snags the closest hand for himself. 

Tommy, rolling his eyes, lets him.

"It's been a while since we left L'Manburg- before all of this, I mean," he says.

"A  _ long _ while," Tubbo agrees.

A pause stretches between them, an unasked question burning the air, brighter than the candle. Tubbo doesn't dare speak it and, in the end, it's Tommy's quiet voice that introduces the subject. 

"Who do you think won?" 

"It's-" Tubbo stares at their clasped hands and thinks about L'Manburg, right in the aftermath of the war. "Not Fundy. Not Niki," he eventually settles on. 

Tommy hums; nods into the dark. "They'd be shit leaders anyway." 

"Why's that?"

"They're too nice. Neither of them has what it takes to lead a country in it's entirety. Their idea of justice is probably community service or something." 

"You'd be surprised. Though- I guess it all depends on how you see it. I was reading a book the other day-" 

"-when  _ aren't _ you?" 

"-and the author asked if it was better to be feared or loved. He thought it was better to be feared." 

With a groan, Tommy flips over so his back is to Tubbo, though he doesn't dare let go of his hand. "Oh, don't get all psychological on me, now. It's too late for that." 

"Philosophical." 

"Witchcraft's witchcraft, Tubbs."

Tubbo closes his eyes, content to let the conversation lie. He doesn't want to know about who  _ actually _ won- not when he's so very sure it wasn't Wilbur. As of sunset, L'Manburg was no longer theirs, despite how hard they fought for her. 

And to think- it happened all legally; a demise of their own accidental making.

He and Tommy sit in silence for so long, he almost becomes convinced that Tommy has fallen asleep- though he doesn't hear his tell-tale snores. At first, he thinks Tommy might just be tired and not even have enough energy  _ to _ snore. 

Then, Tommy speaks up once more. 

"You think Wilbur's still okay?"

It's a childish question, born out of a simple comradery that not even war can destroy. Tubbo knows what he wants to reply with- but he also knows that what Tommy wants is the truth. 

Maybe that truth would be better saved for when they find Technoblade. Maybe it'd be better saved for when they finally open their letters. Maybe it'd even be better saved just for sunlight, when everything doesn't seem so small. 

"Our Wilbur?" Tubbo closes his eyes as the candle finally burns out. "He'll be just fine."


End file.
